A joke
by vrskaandrea
Summary: One of those 'walk into a bar' kinds of jokes. And it might have been funny if it wasn't the Rocky's bar.


**A/N: I have no idea what this is, what I was thinking, what came over me. I mean, I suck at crack fic, even more so than Dean with his bad jokes.**

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He was tired. Dean was so freaking tired and the worst part? He couldn't even sleep. Michael banging on the door of the walk in fridge kept him awake every single night. There have been a few times when he was able to just ignore him, taking his banging and turning it into a beat of a song, whichever one he could think of. Even if it was Taylor Swift.

Dean was beginning to worry that if he had to keep the archangel locked in his mind for too long, he might end up like Sam, hallucinating and not knowing what was real or not. And then slowly having his organs shut down one by one. But that could never happen, not like it almost did with Sam and his sleepless nights. Cuz Sam was only imagining Lucifer. Dean is not imagining Michael.

But that night was different, and Dean didn't really know why. He and Jack just returned from their first hunt together, a necromancer librarian teen and her jock zombie boyfriend. And truth was it should have all make Dean feel old. But it didn't. He didn't really care about that. He cared about what he thought Jack that day. And he realized that if he could pass some of the things he knew, if he could teach Jack somethings and have him continue the fight, then it just might have all been worth it.

And with those thoughts deafening Michael's pounding, he drifted to sleep. He didn't know if it was a dread of what the loose Michael monsters could do without a leader to keep a leash on them or was it nostalgia, but Dean found himself sitting at a bar, looking to his right at an old friend.

Dean took a long swing of his beer and relaxed a bit at the high stool. The man in a Greek Fisherman's hat that so didn't feet the scenary of Rocky's bar huffed a laugh at him and took a sip of his own beer.

"So... Long time no see, brother. - Benny finally spoke, a sparkle of amusement in his eyes - Glad to see you still haven't forgotten about me."

"Could never forget about you, Benny." Dean retorted and took another swing.

"Oookeeey... - Benny dragged the word - but something I don't get."

"Yeah? And what is that?" Dean asked narrowing his eyes at his old Purgatory buddy.

"Why have a Hunter, a Vampire and a Werewolf sit at the same bar?" Benny asked and Dean frowned at him before snapping his head back behind him when a high voice sounded.

"Oh, I love those kinds of jokes! Crack me up every time!" Garth said with a wide grin. "So, a hunter, a vamp and a wolf walk into a bar aaaand..." He raised his brow, clearly expecting one of the other two to keep going. But both stared at him, wearing similar _wtf-seriously? _faces until a voice made them all flinch.

"And none make it out alive." Michael threw the punch line, using Dean's eyes to scan at the three. His face twisted in a smirk that was unnatural for Dean's face, and the real Dean went pale. He let his guard down and Michael escaped.

But Dean didn't even get a chance to dread about the possible repercussions of Michael being free. Because the next thing he knew, Benny was fanging out and hissing at the archangel and Garth was breathing heavily, his eyes yellow and his nails morphed into claws.

"Hm... – Michael felt amused – guess you have monsters of your own, huh, Dean?"

Still, Dean's fear went away as quickly as it came, because it was still three against one. And he liked their odds.

"What? You seriously think your imagination can stop me?" Michael said with an eye roll, seeing them ready to attack. "You and I, we might be equals here, but they are nothing more than illusions of friends that will eventually abandoned you. Like everyone else does."

Dean didn't even get a chance to retort, not that he had a good come-back. Both Benny and Garth charged the archangel and there was clear confusion turned into horror on Dean's face that Michael wore as the monsters took him down with ease, punching and kicking and scratching. Eventually they got a good grip on him and held onto him tight.

"Dean! – Garth yelled bringing the hunter out of his shock – get the door!"

Running towards that walk-in cooler and nearly tripping over thin air, Dean managed to open the cooler door and Benny and Garth, much to Michael's terrified expression, threw the archangel inside. Dean place the ice pick back in the place and finally let out the breath he was holding.

He looked at his imaginary friends as they smiled at him and nodded. He didn't understand why they were so powerful in his head, and Michael wasn't. He never would have thought that he just imagined them that way. And then he smiled back at them, relief written all over his face. He turned to look at those doors as Michael banged against them again, roaring and yelling and screaming.

"You wanna know what happens when a hunter and vamp and a werewolf walk into a bar?" Dean asked, not really directing his question to anyone particular. He could hear the archangel calm down on the other side of the door, like he actually wanted to hear the answer.

"An angel gets to be the punch line!"

Dean turned to his fierce friends and took in their expressions, and they were staring at him almost blankly. Benny was scaling his hand, telling him the joke wasn't bad, but wasn't that good either. Garth was smiling, but not laughing, like he was doing it more for Dean's sake, than he was actually amused.

But Dean was smiling. Dean was laughing. Cuz, bottom line, good old Mike was back in the freezer and the world out there gets to have another day.


End file.
